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It’s a narrow escape. Narrower than usual, actually, so narrow that Nate is honestly not quite sure how they’d made it at all. Nate didn’t count on miracles, as a general rule. Miracles had hardly nothing to do with anything- it was skill, motivation, that got results. Miracles weren’t to be taken lightly.
It was a miracle that they were both alive.
Nate stumbles as they slog through the forest, back to the car. It’s slow work. Sully is still coughing up a lung, and Nate’s adrenaline high was already fading into exhaustion. When they’d first gotten out of the burning castle, he’d been practically bouncing on the tips of his toes, raring to go.
Everything is catching up with him now. Bruises, from the mad dash away from the spiders and escaping from the flames, ache with every step. His skin feels fragile, his palms and arms and legs and just about everything feels as if it’s been singed. The mugginess of the jungle doesn’t help much at all.
When Sully suggests they stop for a few minutes at a stream, Nate doesn’t protest. He knows he shouldn’t agree. He knows that if he sits down now, it’ll be impossible to get back up.
But he’s not sure he can make it much further anyways, and Sully’s face is taut with exhaustion, and Nate just- god, he can’t put Sully through much more than he already has today.
“You’re good?” Nate asks, tone level and confident, as it should be. It’s the eighth time he’s asked the same question in the past twenty minutes. Sully sighs heavily, pats his shoulder.
“I’m fine, Nate.” His tone is reassuring. Nate side eyes him. He does look fine, other than the coughing, which he figures should go away eventually. Or maybe he had been bitten by one of those horrible spiders, and he just hadn’t noticed, and he was going to drop dead any minute now, and-
Nope! Nope, nope, nope. Nate stares very hard at his boots, and pretends that it wasn’t worrying him.
Sully was not dead. He had been almost dead but he wasn't actually dead. He'd narrowly missed being bit by mysterious poison spiders, he hadn’t been pinned underneath burning rubble, or shot, or pinned underneath burning rubble and then shot. He was alright. This was fine. Nate pretends he believes it, pretends he isn’t straining to hear Sully’s ragged breathing.
He’s okay. They’re okay. Everything's a-okay.
“Well, that was… Something.” Sully says. Though his tone is gentle, his voice is rougher than usual. He’d lowered himself down onto a rock, and was digging through his pockets for a cigar.
Nate doesn’t say anything. As carefully as he can, he sits down next to the stream. It hurts like hell, but he tries not to react. Sully stares at him, something unreadable in his eyes. Nate has never been a very good actor, at least in his eyes.
“What’s up, kid?” He asks, gruff.
Nate ignores him still, lowering his hands into the water. It’s painfully cold, but it feels good on his burnt fingertips.
“Nate?” Sully’s tone has shifted now, into something softer, more hesitant.
It’s only now that Nate realizes he’s shaking. He picks at his sleeve, trying to inspect where the bullet had grazed him. It’s not that bad, just a nick that’ll heal in time. Nate doesn’t have anything to wrap around it or his hands. That’ll come later, in the privacy of a hotel room with the proper tools.
Sully gets to his feet, stands right behind him. Nate doesn’t look.
“Look, kid, what I said earlier.. I didn’t-”
“I know.”
Sully sighs heavily. He plants a hand on Nate’s shoulder and lowers himself carefully down. Nate pretends that it doesn’t hurt, but it does. Everything fucking hurts. He feels raw, worn down. His eyes sting, and he pretends he doesn’t notice that either.
“What’s the damage?” Sully asks, pushing Nate’s hands out of the way to get a look for himself. Nate shrugs, mutters an ‘I’m fine’ that he doesn’t really feel. Sully ignores him entirely.
He’s got practice in the department of figuring out how exactly Nate has fucked himself up. He gets a good look at the bullet wound, inspects his singed fingers, and then moves on to less obvious injuries.
Carefully, he prods at Nate’s ribs with gentle fingers, checking for any breaks. Nate had broken a rib a few years back and had attempted to hide it. That had gone about as well as one could expect- Nate doubled over on the kitchen floor, insisting he was fine with the most miserable look on his face- so Sully had made a point to check. It was particularly on his mind after some of the falls Nate had taken earlier, when the building had been crumbling to ash.
Sully’s hands are steady, spreading out against Nate’s chest. Nate doesn’t comment on this, either. Luckily, everything seems to be fine. Some of them are tender, but it’s easily given away by the way that Nate goes rigid. He was never good at hiding pain like this, try as he might.
When he’s finally satisfied, Sully loosely slings an arm around Nate’s shoulder, carefully avoiding any damage. Instinctively, Nate leans into his side. Sully wasn’t a particularly physical person, but there were occasions where he didn’t seem to mind that much. This was, apparently, one of them. If Nate didn’t feel so shitty and scared, he’d probably be happier about it.
“You did good,” Sully says, quietly, so sincerely that it feels like a punch to the gut, “you did good.”
And, fuck, that’s it. There was only so much that Nate could take, and, god, he’s at his limit.
Uselessly, he bursts into tears. Sully wordlessly pulls him closer, one hand firmly on his back and the other nestled on the back of his neck. Nate grabs onto his shirt, desperate for something to hold even though it hurts, and sobs into Sully’s shoulder.
Sully gently rubs his back, murmurs, “Shh, shh.”
Nate feels like he’s fourteen again, alone and scared, so fucking scared. It’s not the feral sort of scared, the scared that makes him defensive like a cornered dog, vicious and desperate. No, it’s the vulnerable sort of scared- it’s the sort of scared that makes his knees weak and his thoughts dull and damp.
Sully leans into him, solid and unyielding. Nate cries until he’s got nothing left, clinging onto Sully like a lifeline as shudders wracked his battered body.
“I know,” Sully says, gentle, “I know.”
Even after he’s spent, Nate doesn’t pull away. Everything hurts, everything, but the comfort of Sully’s embrace makes everything feel distant, even if it’s just for the moment.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sully tells him, and it sounds like a promise.